Down To Earth
by Hatsu Yukiya
Summary: Don't get me wrong, I'm a patriotic Avian-American, but actually considering the possibility that my nation might be standing before me as an anthropomorphic person-thing is a bit of a stretch. The president better have a good explanation for this if he doesn't want me to jump out the window and fly away from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.
1. Chapter 1

Well, we sure are stepping up in the world.

I am, no joke, currently standing in front of the President of the United States of America. Sitting, to be specific, but in the Oval Office nonetheless. Normally the Flock would be with me of course, but apparently Mr. President feels the fewer witnesses to this meeting, the better. Or something. Anyway, as the leader of the Flock, I naturally was the one selected to find out what the boss of this great country wanted.

Fang was the one who quipped the "moving up in the world" line, but that's to be expected. I rolled my eyes when he said it, but secretly agreed. There was no way I was going to outwardly agree with anything he said, as is my custom. Or at least, that's quickly becoming my custom, because Fang gets infuriatingly smug whenever I admit he's right about anything. It drives me up the wall.

Anyway, again, the fact that we've gotten this famous is kind of amazing, and unsettling at the same time. My mom's Coalition to Stop the Madness sure has been spreading the word around if the freakin' _president_ has taken notice. I mean, seriously, what are the odds that we would make it this far? We've spent so long on the run, completely avoiding any sort of help whatsoever, and now one of the most influential men in the world is extending a hand.

At least, I'm pretty sure that's what this is all about. I haven't actually found out what it is he wants yet. I shouldn't be waxing philosophical this early on.

Let's explain how we got to this point, shall we? The Flock and I were just chilling out at my mom's place, Jeb and the Voice were being annoying, and all in all everything was peaceful for once. Then BAM. Suddenly, one of my mom's associates from the Coalition calls her up saying the Secret Service wants to get into contact with us. Naturally, Fang and I shoot Iggy and Gazzy what-did-you-do-this-time looks, which are completely wasted on Iggy as he's, well, _blind,_ but Gazzy vehemently denies doing anything like bombing the national treasury or anything. We haven't even been within the vicinity of Washington D.C. in forever, but I've learned not to doubt their abilities.

Turns out though, the President himself wanted to have a meeting with us—just me, in the end—to discuss "national protection and ameliorate the current lack of our basic human rights," or something like that, as well as this spiel about entrusting us with an international... I don't even know. I didn't have the heart to point out that none of us in the Flock are fully human in the first place.

So we all hopped on a cramped little plane, something all of us kids hate due to crippling claustrophobia (seriously, we have wings, can't we just fly on our own? Apparently not) and flew a few long hours to the capitol of America, the grand D.C. God, I hate it here. I think the only one who hates it more is Iggy, and with good reason. He was almost sold as a freak show by his own parents the last time. We stayed the night in a high-class hotel, and in the morning I was escorted to the White House in a missile-proof stretch limousine. Gotta say, it feels kind of nice being on the receiving end of the security in a completely not-negative way for once. If you'll excuse the double negative. Nudge has been getting on my case about grammar lately, for whatever reason.

Which leads us to the present, with my mom, Jeb, and I sitting in the President's office across from the man himself, waiting for him to actually say something and/or explain what the deal is with this meeting. Finally, he clears his throat and smiles a little tensely.

"Maximum Ride, correct?" he asked, like he didn't know the answer to that already.

"Just Max," I replied out of instinct, and I could literally feel my brain facepalming me on the inside for disrespecting the president. "Uh, sorry. Just a little nervous here. Can we get on with it?" _Ugh, stop talking, Max._

Mom and Jeb introduce themselves from behind me, and they manage to be a lot more polite than myself. After shaking hands with both of them, Mr. President surprises me by getting straight to the point.

"I'm sorry to say that at this point, the government has been unsuccessful in pinpointing the exact location of the School, as well as digging up any records of illicit activity within the various branches of the ITEX organization. Well, we know for sure that the School is performing extremely illegal research; it's ITEX that's the problem. Nonetheless," he stands up straighter here, "we wish to grant protection to all subjects involved."

"O-Oh," I said with my usual razor-sharp wit and intellect, "so that would be me and my family then, right?"

The president nodded. "Indeed. I recall hearing that your last offer from the government didn't end well, yes?"

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and sense my mom stiffening behind me. "Yeah, honestly. They made an offer we had to turn down. No offense, Mr. President, but if you're going to say anything about granting us a permanent home in return for the right to stick wires into us while we run on treadmills, then I'm walking out right now." Or flying, depending on the mood I'm in by the end of this tripe.

He blinked. Apparently I wasn't the only one who expected the opposite party to beat around the bush. Then, shaking his head, he replied with "That's not what I was going to offer at all. In fact, I'm sure you'll be surprised at my offer." He sat at his desk and leaned forward on his elbows. "It's true we know quite a lot about you and your family here in the capitol, wings and all. We find it quite extraordinary, and wish to cease the attacks laid upon you by your...adversaries."

"The School and ITEX."

"Correct."

Jeez, he really is well-informed. I was dumb to expect anything less from the President of the United States. He has control of the CIA and FBI, after all. "Okay, I'll bite on that. How do you want to make us safe?"

The President pauses to think, as though collecting his answer into the most carefully-constructed response he can come up with. I like that he's actually taking the time to think things through, and it seems like he's trying to see things from my perspective.

Huh. Max Ride, seeing eye-to-eye with a figure of authority. Go figure, I never thought I would see this in my lifetime.

"It's not traditional in the slightest," he said finally. "To be honest, we're just providing you with some phone numbers and very important connections you can contact should the need arise."

Jeb speaks for the first time since this whole thing started. "May we ask who that would be? Pardon my suspicion, but we've had far too many experiences in which traps were laid because we trusted to easily."

_Speak for yourself_, I thought to myself, sullenly. _Also, the grammatically correct term is _ god, Nudge is having too much of an influence on my mind.

The president smiled understandingly. "Of course I understand your concern, Dr. Batchelder. Trust me, the people Max here will be meeting will prove only beneficial in both the short and the long runs."

"Hm. I'm afraid I'll have to take you at your word for now."

"Not for much longer." The president pushes a button on a panel on his desk, which seems to link up to an intercom. "Sandra, could you send him in now, please?"

"Oh thank God," a woman's robotic voice sighs through the speaker. "Truth be told, sir, he's been so impatient that he's driving everyone up the wall down here in the office."

Mr. President looks up at us, an embarrassed expression on his face. "I apologize about that, Sandra. But we do need him now, rest assured."

"Alright, he's on his way." The beep at the end of the sentence signified the end of the conversation, and the room fell into an awkward silence.

"Pardon me," my mom speaks up, "but might I ask whom it is that we will be meeting?"

"Someone very important," the president replies cryptically. "Very important indeed."

At that moment, the doors to the Oval Office burst open with a bang. We spun around as a guy stumbles in, and the president rubs his eyes.

"Hey dude, it's about time! I was pulling my hair out waiting for you to be ready for me," he grins, running a hand through his sandy-blonde hair. He's about nineteen, as far as I can tell, and tall with big, round blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He's dressed nicely enough, with a tie and everything, but I'm pretty sure I see a grease stain on his pants and a McDonald's cheeseburger wrapper sticking out of one pocket.

The president sighs. "Calm down, if you would." He gestures tiredly to the new boy, who looks more like an overzealous intern than anything. "Max, Dr. Martinez, Dr. Batchelder, I'd like you to meet Alfred F. Jones."

Alfred gives us a movie-star smile and flashes a double thumbs-up as the president continues, sounding more exasperated with every syllable.

"Also known as the United States of America."

**A/N:**

** Bleeeh. What am I doing.**

** Right. This is just a short little blurb-thing that'll be around five chapters at the very most. Not very long at all, as I'm not going to do a big drama plot with something like "The Flock and the nations get kidnapped by the School, will they escape?" that appears so often in MR/Hetalia crossovers. Don't get me wrong, I love those stories, but I just don't want to write one because every storyline for that which can be used, already has been. In my opinion, the best is ****Hourglass ****by ****Ahh I'm on Fire.**** I just would be unable to top that.**

** So, this teeny little story. I hope people like it. A little slow to start, but it'll get better, I promise. Just hang in there. As for the timeline... uh, I dunno. After the Coalition is introduced and before Angel stops being a sweetheart. Yeah, let's go with that. Haven't read the books in a while.**

** Long A/N is long. Thank you for reading and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

I fully admit to being completely and utterly confused at this point in time. While Alfred just stands there looking pleased at everything, I raise my hand and inform the president that he's lost me in the woods. I'm not the only one either; Mom and Jeb look as baffled as I feel. Oh well, that makes three of us.

"The United States of America," the president repeats, slower this time. Sir, it really doesn't make any more sense the second time. How can a country, a landmass, be standing in the president's office as a living, breathing human being?

Okay, I have wings, can fly at 250 miles per hour, and have an extremely annoying Voice in my head that likes to give me nonsensical advice at inopportune times (though it is curiously silent at the moment). Seriously, if something completely flies over my head in terms of how much sense it makes, then it deserves a medal.

"Boss, I don't really think you're doing a good job of explaining this whole thing," Alfred says, as gently as possible. "Why don't you let me to the talking for a bit?"

The president looks like he wants to argue, but in the end he sits heavily in his chair and waves a hand allowing the blonde to continue. Alfred salutes and hurries up to me, holding out his hand.

"Hey there, I'm America," he reintroduces. I just stare at his outstretched hand until he nervously retracts it. "Uh, you're Max, right? I've heard a lot about you. Like the wings and stuff. That's really cool and everything. Flying sounds great. I've been in about a hundred different kinds of places since they were perfected in, I dunno, early 1900's or something, but—"

"Can you get on with it?" I interrupt, crossing my arms. "You're literally making no sense. First of all, how can you call yourself America when... ugh, I have no idea what's even happening right now."

"Right, right." Alfred—America?—wipes his palms on his pants. "Okay. It really just boils down to two words. Arthro...antropoli...pers..."

"Anthropomorphic personification," the president interjects, completely deadpan as he inspects a miniscule scratch in his mahogany desk.

"Oh yeah! What he said." Alfred flashes his perfect grin again. "I'm an anthropomorphic personification of the United States."

"How, thought?"

"I dunno." He's not even lying as he shrugs his shoulders. "We just sort of exist."

"We?" Jeb cuts in, "You mean there are more?"

"Oh man, you have no idea," Alfred groans. "So many. There's pretty much a personification of every country that currently exists. Lemme tell ya, some of us can get pretty crazy, if you know what I mean."

I could empathize with that, at least. "So how come, if there's so many of you, the world isn't aware that there are human versions of all the countries walking around?"

He grins mischievously. "The same reason that the whole world doesn't know there are kids with wings flying around, dude. It's been kept under wraps since forever. Look, I don't know why we exist or what bizarre pattern of physics we follow, but it's the truth that I'm America. I was born sometime in the 1600's, but my official birthday is July 4th, 1776. I'm not even the oldest, either."

I can't help but ask, "Who's the oldest?"

America (I should probably call him that now) thinks a bit, and then laughs. "China, if I'm remembering right. He's over four thousand."

He goes on to explain that, when a new country is formed and populated, it gains a personification. If a country ceases to exist, that's when its personification dies, or disappears, or whatever. It's really unconfirmed what happens when the landmass stops being a certain place. It's a completely bizarre setup but, to my surprise, I find myself believing more and more of it as America keeps talking. I guess it might be because of all the crazy junk that makes up my own life. Yeah, that seems like a good explanation.

I tell America this, and he bursts out laughing. "Yeah that makes sense. You seem pretty chill about weird stuff, if you don't mind my saying."

"I have to ask though, why are you telling me what you are? Isn't this supposed to be some pretty big secret?" The curiosity is killing me.

"We know you and your family aren't the kind of people who like things forced on them," America explains, "so we're just offering help. Look, we nations are a pretty damn big deal in our governments, and we have a lot of influence. If you're ever in need of anything, from any of us, then you could call us up or something and we'd have help there in no time." He flashes a thumbs-up. "Pretty good deal, huh?"

"We don't know any other nations though," Mom points out.

The president coughs. "Ah, yes. We're getting into the heart of things now. See, every so often, about once a month, the nations all meet up for a world conference. The next one is being held here in the capitol later this week, and it'd be an ideal time for Max and her siblings to present their case internationally and make a few connections."

"So what do you say?" America's eyes bore into mine apprehensively. I only just met him, and he's told me the craziest story I've ever heard, but at the same time he has the kind of face people can't help but trust. I guess I'm no exception.

I bite my lip. "Well..."

xXx

The reactions of the rest of my Flock were...mixed, to say the least. Nudge was ecstatic but nervous; Fang was downright wary, Gazzy and Iggy didn't care either way, and Angel really just goes along with whatever I decide.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Fang asked, his dark eyes penetrating. "It could be a trap, for all we know. That whole story seems a bit too far-fetched for me."

"I think it's awesome," Iggy speaks up from where he's slung upside-down over the sofa in our hotel room. Mom and Jeb are in the room next door. "Nations as people. That'd make for a good fiction series." He says this all in a completely flat voice, and I have no idea if he's kidding or not. it's difficult to tell with him sometimes.

"I'm up for it!" Nudge grins, of course. That girl is too excitable for her own good. Next to her, Angel nods with a small smile, "Me too. It'll be fun, I think."

I look directly at Fang. "I don't know if it's a trap or not. But I do know if it isn't, then we're making some pretty dang good friends to help us out if we need it. And we need help a lot, even if we don't admit it. Besides," I lower my voice, "we'll all be together. If anything happens, we'll just fight our way out."

He stares at me for a long moment, and then bobs his head in the faintest of nods.

"Okay."

**A/N:**

** Here, an update :D I'm cool.**

** Thanks for all the reviews and follows, guys! Please help me get more. I really appreciate it. Even if this story won't be very long (though maybe it'll be slightly longer than I originally intended) I hope people like it for what it is.**

** Thank you for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

I stretched out on the hotel bed I shared with Nudge and Angel, feeling tired even after sleeping all night. I'm pretty sure I slept; Nudge is a kicker. Either way, whether I was kicked or not, I had some seriously crazy dreams. Most of them involved America doing something insane. Honestly, when I thought about it, it didn't seem like strange things are out of the ordinary for that guy. My dreams of alien abductions and the zombie apocalypse, all involving him, really didn't feel all that weird. They're weird for me, of course, but probably not for him.

It occurs to me that I am rambling.

Anyway, it's early in the morning and I'm wide awake, unable to get back to sleep. My mind is full of turbulent thoughts, and even though it's still dark out, I kind of like the way everything's at peace for once. If just for a little bit.

The silence is shattered when I hear, "What are you doing up so early?" I roll over onto my elbow and see Fang in the same position on the opposite bed, staring at me.

"You look like a creeper," I tell him. He rolls his eyes.

"Cut the crud, Max. Something's bothering you."

"Is there? I was confused for a second."

"Max. Seriously."

I sigh, conceding defeat. "Nothing's really bothering me. Not right now, at least. I'm just thinking about some things."

"Like what?" he prompts.

Shrugging, I reply, "Our world is crazy, you know?"

"That's kind of an overgeneralization," he deadpans. "I've been aware of that fact since we were like, six."

"The world is literally crazy, I mean," I specify, "Come on, did it ever cross your mind that maybe there would be personifications of all the earth's countries? You didn't meet America, so lemme tell you, that guy's got more than one screw loose."

"And now we're going to meet them all," he says softly. "This could either be the best opportunity we've ever gotten, or the worst trap we've ever walked into."

"Either way, I'm kind of nervous." I sigh again. "Do you think it'll turn out okay?"

Fang rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I trust you. I trust your judgment. I'll believe in whatever you think is the right thing."

"I'm not used to having such unwavering support being said outright from you."

He flashes me one of his rare grins. "It's not just the world that's crazy, you know."

** xXx**

Fang makes no sense sometimes. But a few minutes after our conversation ended, I managed to drop off again and get a few more hours of sleep. That's a good thing, as we're going to the world meeting today, and I imagine that will take a lot of energy. When I wake up, the rest of the Flock is just stirring awake. During the few hours I managed to sleep, Angel had curled up to me, and so woke up when I did. I disentangled her hand from my own and reached over to shake Nudge awake.

"Hey sweetie, let's get to it," I say gently. Over on the other bed, I see Fang unceremoniously drag the blankets off of Iggy and Gazzy out of the corner of my eye. Total had been sleeping on that bed with them, and naturally complained loudly when he hit the floor. I rubbed my eyes and told him it was too early for his griping. He huffed and strutted over to Angel. Big surprise.

Mom and Jeb come into our room a few minutes later, bearing like thirty breakfast burritos and fruit smoothies. We practically inhale them and before long, there's a knock on our door. Mom goes and answers it, admitting a small, balding, and nervous-looking man inside.

His watery brown eyes scan the room and each of us individually. I right away decide I don't like him much.

"Can we help you?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

The man clears his throat and says in a high-strung, slightly irritated voice, "My name is Paul Johnson. I've been sent by the president to accompany you to the world meeting and help you assimilate properly."

Well gee. Paul sure sounds ecstatic about his job.

"Great," I reply with false enthusiasm. "Lay down the rules on us, then."

I was kidding, completely kidding, so of course I'm floored when he actually pulls out a list of rules and begins reading them off. My Flock remains silent, though I can see Gazzy and Nudge shaking with silent laughter.

Paul cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Do not argue with Prussia, no matter what he says. Don't get into any fights. If Korea says something originated in his country, it is a bad idea to try and disprove said statement. If France tries anything sketchy, you have permission to resort to violence to get him to stop. And don't take any food England may offer you." He looks up at us sharply over the top of the paper. "Can you all do that?"

I hate the way he's speaking to us, like we're small children incapable of understanding simple instructions. I sigh the way a spoiled teenager would and reply in a snappish voice, "Don't eat British food, don't get into fights unless it's with France, and don't argue when people make ridiculous claims about their country." I snap into a salute and say in a high, grating voice, "SIR, YES SIR."

Paul's eyes narrow. Fang, who's standing behind him, smirks and shakes his head.

"...Fine," he answers through gritted teeth. "There's a limousine waiting outside. If you'll please come this way..."

He beckons for us to follow him, so we oblige. We head outside, get seated comfortably in the car, and begin to drive off to the White House.

Time to meet the rest of the world.

** A/N:**

** Yeah. Sorry for the gaps between updates.**

** But damn! I wasn't expecting it to get such a good response! Thank you all, for liking this story as much as you have!**

** Please continue to read, favorite, follow, and (most importantly) review!**


	4. Chapter 4

We arrive back at the White House, and Paul leads us through the maze of hallways and security systems to the room where the meeting would be held. The minute we get there, he gives us this sort of, "I'm watching you," kind of look and disappears. I roll my eyes at Fang, who smirks in reply, but we hesitate when it comes to actually opening the door and going inside. We can hear the noise coming from within; it's muted through the heavy oak panels of the door, but there's obviously some kind of chaos going on inside.

However, I'm not one to chicken out of anything, so I clench my teeth, roll my shoulders back, and push the door open.

It's unbelievable. There are tons of people inside, all talking loudly, eating, running around, and I'm pretty sure I see a full-on brawl going on in one of the corners. I blink and step back, surprised by the exact amount of noise and activity, and hold out my arms to stop the others from advancing further.

"I'm a little worried about our chances of survival here," I tell everyone else in a falsely cheerful voice. My words can barely be heard even at close range, the chaos is so intense. Suddenly we hear, "It's Max! Max!"

I turn around, recognizing that particular, abrasive voice, and sure enough America is rushing towards us like some kind of wide-eyed puppy, a big grin on his face. "You're here!" he greets excitedly. "I was wondering how long it would take you, 'cause Paul has a stick up his ass or something—" Nudge covered Angel's ears here, though I'm not sure why considering the child can read minds. "—and was probably drilling rules into you."

"Kind of," Iggy chips in, and I don't have to turn around to know he's rolling his eyes.

America blinks, then smiles even wider. "Oh, that's right! I haven't met you other guys yet! Come on, what are your names?"

"You don't know them already? I would have thought your boss told you all about us," I say, confused. He shrugs.

"My boss doesn't tell me a lot of things, which makes no sense, but whatever." America swings his arms from side to side. "Sorry you'll have to fill in a lot of holes for me here."

"No big deal. Well, you know I'm Max. Guys, introduce yourselves."

"Fang," Fang says flatly, arms crossed and eyeing America with a cold, steely look. I would tell him to roll back the attitude if that weren't what he was like all the time, so I just ignore it for the time being. America seems pretty unfazed, anyway. I wonder how often he has to deal with people like Fang, and internally shudder. If there are lots of Fangs in this room, I'm leaving. One is enough.

"I'm the Gasman!" Gazzy exclaims, fist-pumping, "Fart and explosives extraordinaire!"

America laughs out loud. "Dude, that's awesome! You gotta show me how to do some pretty sweet stuff while you're here!"

"Sure!"

I rub my eyes as the two slap hands, and then Iggy says, "Hey, don't leave me out of this. I don't like being ignored."

"Sorry dude. What's your name?"

"Ignatius," Iggy says flatly, and suddenly I want to throttle him. Is it his goal to completely botch this whole thing? I love my flock to death, I really do, but they do grate on the nerves sometimes. Not that I'm one to talk. I'm sure I do the same thing on occasion.

After Iggy (and America's subsequent squeeing over how cool his "name" was) we moved onto Nudge, who wouldn't stop talking for five straight minutes before Angel finally stepped up and interrupted with her own introduction. She had to speak very loudly to be heard, because at this point the loudness in the room has reached its peak and I wonder, not for the first time, why I even let myself get involved in all of this. Look, I'm not good with enclosed spaces and lots of people, and it's getting uncomfortably hot in here. I glance at Fang and he gives me an extremely irritated look, letting me know that he's just as unhappy about this conditions as I am. We're both going to have a splitting headache later. I feel sorry for Iggy. With all the chaos everywhere, he must be having a hard time getting his bearings.

My musings are interrupted by a distinctly British voice speaking over the racket, "Keeping the guests to yourself, huh? I don't suppose you intend to introduce them to the rest of us?"

America grimaces and we turn around to see a short blonde guy with messy hair and the biggest freakin' eyebrows I've ever seen in my life. I hear a choking sound behind me and know that Angel, Nudge, and Gazzy are trying their best not to burst out laughing on the spot. They are pretty amusing, I gotta say. Like someone glued fuzzy black caterpillars to his face.

Caterpillar Brows is accompanied by a tall, admittedly attractive guy with a beard and wavy blonde hair, and a small Asian with his long dark hair tied in a ponytail. The Asian looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here (and I can certainly sympathize) and the other blonde is giving me a weird look that makes me feel dirty and want to kick him where it counts.

America sighs, "What do you guys want? I was gonna introduce them once the meeting started. Stop bothering us."

"I'm not bothered," I said, trying to be as polite as possible. "Which ones are you guys?"

"I am England," Caterpillar Brows sniffs, and he glares as America slings an arm over his shoulder. He ducks out from underneath and snaps, "Keep off me! Honestly, when was the last time you showered?"

The other blonde laughs. "I should think you would be used to bad smells, considering the state of the deathtrap you call a kitchen," he says with a think French accent. I take a wild guess and assume this is France.

"Yeah Artie, calm down," America agrees, rolling his eyes.

England's ears redden. "I told you not to call me that!"

"But it's your name."

"'Artie' is not my name! It's _Arthur!_ And that's technically not my name either!"

"Whatever."

The Asian man, who was the only one to have yet to say a single word, turns to me and the Flock with an apologetic look and sweeps his bangs out of his eyes. "I'm sorry about them, aru," he says, gesturing to America, England, and France, who seem to have fallen into an outright heated argument. "They do this all the time."

"No big deal," I reply through clenched teeth. "We do it all the time too."

"Except Max is usually the one who starts it," Iggy snorts, conveniently picking that moment to chip in. I want to kill him, but figure that wouldn't leave a good lasting impression on the nations of the world. Even if about half of them look like they're about to kill someone else themselves.

However, Iggy's comment got a laugh out of the man and he smiled, "Ah, my siblings are the same. I suppose everyone here is to an extent, aru." He holds out his hand to me. "I am China, by the way."

We smiled back, and I shook his hand. He seemed nice enough. Before any of us got a chance to reply or say anything else, however, a loud slamming sound cut through the overbearing noise and someone hollered out, "EVERYONE SHUT UP!"

* * *

**A/N:**

***sneaks over from the Rise of the Guardians fandom* Hehe, hey guys! Been a while, huh? Those RotG nuts have got a good hold on me, though, so that's where I've been and I don't plan on leaving any time soon. Sorry. And sorry about the short/boring/half-assed chapter. Motivation has been on the down-low for me lately, at least in terms of stories that aren't for Rise of the Guardians. I'll try to do better, but no promises. **

**Thank you for reading and please review!**


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